


10 Hours Nightcore Bass-Boost Through The Fire And The Flames

by rocketkid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketkid/pseuds/rocketkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was tired of either angsty or super-sweet high school AUs, so I made my own. Ships may develop later and there will definitely be more of everyone else. It starts in freshman year and will progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fastball

**Author's Note:**

> Co-conceived and read over by my best buddy Hark, without whom I never would've actually written this. Thanks dude.  
> Also, there was a note at the beginning from myself reading "HAPPTY 5 AM ITS TIME TO WRITE".

He doesn't like to make eye contact, but especially not in gym. Sometimes he has the guts to stare everyone down, maybe crack a joke, but it's his first day in a new place. So he keeps his eyes down, only glancing up when someone sounds close by.  
Christ, he thinks, that guy's got to be a Senior, right? as a guy who's got to be six feet tall wanders by and sits near him on the communal benches. No sooner has Junkrat thought "hope he's on my team" than the coach steps out and makes it so. Right side is one team, left side, it's sportsboys pumped, is the other.  
"Let's start out with something familiar- Dodgeball."  
-  
The first few rounds are hell, but at least a few people on his team are staying in. Most notably, the big guy from before. Suddenly, it's his turn to go back in. He's managing well enough, dodging, throwing, as you'll do, when an arm shoves him out of the way.  
"Hey what the-" a stern look from the coach, ".......heck?" It's the big guy from before. He has knuckle tattoos that read "L E F T" over his left hand and he's holding out a red rubber ball. His fingernails have remnants of polish on the edges. He seems so much taller from the floor.  
Junkrat gets up and takes the ball. He throws it and nearly hits someone. He looks over at the tall guy, looking for what? Approval? Guidance? Not really...  
But the guy flashes him a thumbs up and hands him another.  
The coach would later describe what followed as a "fastball special".  
"Well," the coach would say, "I didn't think he would've picked him up but uh... I guess he is kinda skinny, eh? It was a hell of a strategic move, in a way." The principal would shake her head and call in the two.  
He would walk in shaky, he always gets like this in these situations. He would begin to apologize before the principal raised her hand to stop him.  
"There's no need to apologize," she would say, "You're the one who was injured, yes?"  
"Well..." he stumbled over his words, trying to say them too quickly, "Yeah, I guess? But, y'know, that's just how it is, he was helpin' me out is all."  
"You don't feel wronged?"  
"No, uh, no, ma'am."  
She would glance at the coach. He would shrug. She would turn back and say, "Well then."  
Out in the hallway, after all of that, Junkrat chuckles nervously and pushes his hair back. He glances over at who he will soon learn is called Roadhog.  
"Hey uh... not sure if I want to know, but why'd you help me back there? I mean you did kind of throw me, but otherwise we wouldn't have won, so that's fair I guess but-"  
Roadhog silently points a finger to him.  
"Not fair."  
He's quiet for a second but the energy he had when they were back-to-back hurling dodgeballs at the other team, all that energy comes back and he's shouting.  
"Hey, look I may be missing a few parts but you can take that and shove it up your fucking ass! I don't need your help just to-" A large hand covers his mouth and he has half a mind to bite it. Roadhog shakes his head.  
"No... sorry... 'cause of where you're from." and with that, he removes his hand.  
Junkrat is quiet a moment, then he leans back against the wall and sighs. Still leaned back, he looks over.  
"Fellow Aussie." he says, not like it's a question.  
Roadhog moves his hand in a so-so motion.  
"... The fuck's that mean?" he asks, mimicking the motion.  
"Sort of."  
"Oh... okay then, that's that. We'll stick together then." he says it like it is a fact, but he doesn't feel nearly as confident. Let's face it, he knows no one, and until last year he lived in a wasteland. His host family is nice here but they don't get it, not really. This guy, the only other Australian maybe in the entire city, almost certainly in the entire school. He may be all Junkrat's got.  
"Junkrat," he says, sticking out his hand, the robot hand. "They tell me 'Jamison Fawkes' is my real name but uh. Junkrat's my name."  
His hand sags over a few seconds that seem like forever, before being covered by the other's hand.  
"Roadhog." he says, before coughing violently. He snaps something into his mask, and it seems to help.  
"Mask shoulda been a dead giveaway, eh? Thought maybe you just had allergies... Y'know you don't have to wear those here, don't you?" Junkrat says, grinning at his reflection in the glass of the eyepieces.  
Roadhog shrugs.  
"Ah, well, it doesn't bother me, but it might bother everyone else around here..." He shoves off the wall suddenly, "Oh well! Their loss! Let's go!"  
Gym had been the last class of the day, and after losing their school's dreadful tye-dyed gym shirts, the two left. Junkrat, balanced on the edge of the sidewalk, Roadhog, walking with instead of riding his bike.  
His eyes are locked onto Junkrat's prosthetic arm as the cars speed by, and he hopes it doesn't take his arm off. He honestly had not meant to throw him earlier, but he guesses it worked out in the end. A car swerves and weaves ahead and he cares enough to yank him out of the way, though it wouldn't have ever come close enough.


	2. Bank Heist

Between the wary stares and the long pauses in the first week of roll call, Junkrat learns a few things. Roadhog's name- Mako- means very little to him, but he files it away anyway. More important than that, he gets the sneaking suspicion that the faculty is somewhat… nervous, around Roadog. He brings this up one day, fiddling with a gold tooth as he remarks, "They're afraid of ya, y'know?" It comes out crueler than he means. Roadhog seems to stare Junkrat down, but the fear of that has worn off by now. Mostly. Eventually Roadhog looks away and snorts derisively.   
"I mean, we could do whatever we want and I bet they wouldn't do anything." he continues, gnawing on the remains of the school-provided burrito. Roadhog doesn't eat at school, and he doesn't respond to Junkrat's wishful statement.   
Junkrat looks around before leaning in conspiratorially, and Roadhog almost cringes at the obviousness of it.   
"Y'know…" Junkrat starts, pausing just a little too long before continuing, "my fireworks stash has all but dried up. Maybe we could nab a little something?"  
When Junkrat had arrived in the U.S., it was mid-June. He at first had aimed to go as many places as possible, get a lay of the land as much as he could. However, the fireworks for the upcoming month had just been put on the shelves and he spends the rest of the summer hoarding and reverse-engineering them. Later, he sought to recoup some of his costs by selling the fireworks and knockoffs to students. Most were only interested in firecrackers, sparklers, the odd rocket here and there- one guy bought all his smoke bombs, but he was kind of strange.   
Now his resources were dwindling and though he had money again, it was still slightly less than the program had given him to start with. The idea being that he would make connections in the U.S. and start a life there. Roadhog as well, he assumed, had the same program sponsoring him.   
Roadhog shook his head. He had noticed that the teachers were antsy around him, but he was somewhat used to that. None of them had acted unfairly towards him, however, which was not something he was used to. In the Wasteland, it had not been uncommon for him to be ganged up on, age overestimated and size needing to be compensated for. He liked it here, and he didn't want to go back over something as petty as stealing from a chem lab.   
Junkrat, on the other hand, seems completely oblivious to the threat of being sent back. He seemed somewhat clean a few weeks ago, but now he's always covered in… ashes? Dirt? Roadhog isn't sure. But he's looking at him with anticipation, like he needs to bounce ideas off of someone to decide what to pull next. Roadhog shrugs.   
"Arson?" he questions, and Junkrat waves his hand dismissively.  
"Too big."  
"…We rob a bank."  
Junkrat looks at him with a glint in his eye before bursting out into laughter. He reaches across the table and lightly punches Roadhog on the shoulder (don't want a repeat of last Tuesday, eh?).   
"Ahh, that's a good one 'Hog."


End file.
